


Playdate

by rsadelle



Category: Music RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-10-14
Updated: 2000-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tri spends a day with one of her favorite people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playdate

**Author's Note:**

> It was supposed to be funny, but then they got all sappy on me.

BitchyTri: We got these lifelike baby dolls.  
BitchyTri: And when they cried, you had to hold this button down on the back.  
BitchyTri: Until they cooed.  
Amatia: I never had to do the egg/flour/doll thing at all.  
* rsadelle tries to picture Tri making a doll coo...  
BitchyTri: While going, "All right, you stupid fucker. Goddammit, coo already. Oh, sweet Trent."  
* rsadelle thinks this could be a good bit of comic fic.

And then the guy at the next table, who she hadn't noticed because she was too preoccupied with the stupid doll looks up and says, "Yes?"

Triana looks over at Trent in amazement and blushes because, well, here she is taking care of a stupid doll and there's *Trent* sitting at the next table.

Trent just looks at the girl and smiles suddenly, and says, "One of those school projects, huh? Thank God they didn't have these kinds of dolls when I was in high school. Want me to try? I'm actually pretty good with kids."

Triana mutely hands the doll over to Trent and watches in amazement as he coos to the child and starts singing it a lullaby, all while pressing down on the appropriate button on its back. She just stares at him, because he doesn't stop even once the child starts cooing; he just keeps singing to it softly. This is one of those moments that make her wish she were the type to carry a camera around with her, because, well, this would be such a perfect photo. But she can watch and let the image imprint itself into her memory. She watches as he cuddles and coos and sings to the doll until its eyes close, signifying that it's fallen asleep.

Trent shrugs a little sheepishly and hands the doll back to Tri. "I told you I was good with kids. Even the plastic kind, I guess."

Tri looks at him and manages to find her voice again. "Thanks. It never wants to be quiet for me."

"You should try singing to it. Kids like that."

"When you do it, yeah, but I don't have your voice."

Trent grins at her and mischievously steals a French fry off of her plate. "Doesn't matter," he says between bites. "Kids'll love it anyway."

Trent reaches for another fry, but Tri slaps his hand away, carefully cradling the doll to her. "Don't you have your own?"

Trent raises his eyebrows. "Crank-*y*."

"Look, I've been up all night for the last week with this stupid doll; I can be cranky if I want." The doll, of course, picks that moment to wake up and start crying again. Triana sighs in exasperation and starts to bounce the doll again.

Trent reaches over and takes it from her. "Here. I'll take care of the baby; you eat."

Tri gratefully hands over the doll and watches Trent out of the corner of her eye as she eats. Now she really wishes she'd brought a camera because Trent is bouncing the doll and swinging it around and laughing at it as if it were a real child. And for a moment she pretends it's real. Trent looks up at her and grins and then swipes another fry off her plate. She mock-glares at him, but she can't keep the smile off of her face.

Trent knows that and plays it to his advantage, swinging the doll up again and making silly little noises at it. Triana wonders how the hell she manages to get herself into such odd situations, but she decides to just enjoy it, enjoy Trent's nearness and playful mood. So she watches Trent play with the doll the same way he might play with a real baby and finishes her lunch.

When the waiter comes and brings her the check, Trent's hand stops her from picking it up. "I'll get it," he says. "It's the least I can do after you let me play with your 'child' here."

Triana grins at that. "Anytime you want to play, you just have to ask."

Trent gives her a wicked smile and says, "Anytime?"

"Anytime," she answers definitively.

"So let's go play," he says. "Unless you have somewhere you have to be."

She raises her eyebrows at him. "What did you have in mind?"

Trent shrugs. "I don't know. Something kids would like. There has to be a playground around here somewhere, right?"

"Yeah, sure." Triana takes the doll back from him and hefts the stupid childcare bag she has to carry around with her onto her shoulder while Trent goes to pay for their lunch.

He comes back and tosses a few dollars on the table as a tip, then puts an arm around Triana's shoulders to usher her out of the restaurant. He takes her out to his car and she holds the doll close to her chest, telling him that she knows it should be in a car seat, but it *is* only a doll.

Trent follows her directions to the park and lets her take him down one of the paths. They walk along in companionable silence and take turns carrying the baby, which, miraculously, does not cry.

Along the path, there's a bench, sheltered and shaded by vine-covered trees. Trent stops them and they sit, Triana leaning into the arm he throws around her shoulders and cuddling the doll, making sure that it has enough touch and love, just as she would with a real child.

Trent leans over her and gently strokes a finger along the doll's cheek. "I love kids," he says somewhat dreamily. "Even when they're not exactly real," he adds with a half-smirk.

"So why don't you have kids yet?" she asks him, watching him trace the doll's features with a completely absorbed fascination.

"Never found anyone who I wanted to have kids with." A shadow crosses his face. "Except Manson. And that can't happen."

Triana catches his hand with hers. "I'm sorry," she says.

He smiles at her and says, "Ancient history," but his eyes are still shadowed.

Triana leans against him, providing what comfort she can and Trent pulls her closer, appreciating the touch of living warmth.

They sit for a while, watching the people walking by and the fading afternoon light. They can both feel the illusion of family spinning and stretching out around them.

After a long while, the sun sets and it starts to get cold. Triana shivers and not even the bulk of Trent's warmth can stop it.

Trent stands and pulls Triana up with him. "Come on. Let's find somewhere warmer to sit."

"I know a coffee shop," Triana tells him. "We can sit as long as we like and no one'll bother us."

They get back in the car and Triana tells Trent how to get to the coffee shop. Once there, they order coffees--Trent pays again--and find a table in a corner of the back room that every coffee shop seems to have. They sit in a peaceful silence, sipping the coffee, feeling the caffeine flow through their veins, until the doll decides to start crying again. Trent takes the doll from Triana's arms and rocks it gently back into quietness.

"You're really good at that," Triana tells him, a hint of envy coloring the compliment.

Trent just shrugs. "I told you I'm good with kids."

They sit, then, in silence again, sipping the coffee, Trent periodically soothing the doll-child back into silence.

It gets later and Trent takes the doll with him to get them second cups of coffee.

When they've both finished their second coffees and have stretched the day out past midnight, Trent tells her apologetically that he has to go. "I'll give you a ride home first, though," he offers.

She takes the child back from him and they go back to the car.

He drives her home and strokes her cheek gently and thanks her for a great day before he lets her get out of the car.

She stands and watches him drive off and wonders if maybe she dreamed the whole day; it seems so unreal. But then she notices a slip of paper tucked into the pocket of the doll's overalls. She pulls it out.

"I can't wait to play again."

She smiles in the darkness and puts the note into her pocket and goes into the house, still smiling.


End file.
